A Song for the Asking

by Steve Gannon

  “Hey, Trav?” Arnie called after him.

  Travis glanced back.

  “Thanks for trying.”

  The burial took place later that afternoon at a cemetery in the San Fernando Valley. Fog still shrouded the coastline when the Kanes returned home. Once there they splintered apart, each going his or her own way to deal with the family’s loss in private. Kane continued to drink, holing up in the downstairs bar like a wounded animal. Catheryn retired to her bedroom, Allison and Travis to theirs. Nate, the smallest and most sensitive of the children to the storm building in their father, completely disappeared from the house.

  As the sun made a brief appearance under the clouds in time to touch the horizon, Travis heard a timid knock at his door. “Come in,” he said, not feeling like company but curious to see who had sought him out. It was Allison. She entered, crossed to Tommy’s bed, and sat staring out the window at the dying sun. Her face looked drawn and pale. Travis realized that the events of the day had taken a terrible toll on his sister, as they had on the rest of the family. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Yeah. How about you?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “At least Dad’s talking to you now,” said Allison, concern evident in her voice.

  “I liked it better the other way.”

  “Amen to that.”

  “Is he still downstairs?”

  “Uh-huh.” Allison extended her thumb and little finger, tipping her hand to her lips in a gesture Travis understood all too well.

  “No wonder Nate decided to make himself scarce. Maybe we should do the same.”

  Allison smiled sadly. “He’s a lot smaller than we are, Trav,” she said. “I don’t think we can all fit under the deck. We’re stuck here.”

  “Speak for yourself, sis. If things get rough, I’m gone.”

  “My fearless brother Travis,” said Allison gently. “At least Tommy stood up to Dad once in a while.”

  “Yeah, and got his ass kicked for his trouble.”

  “Nobody ever said Tommy was smart. Maybe that’s why we were never close, not like …” Allison stopped. She glanced at Travis, then returned her gaze to the fading sunset. “We never really connected,” she went on quietly. “Aside from being older, Tommy just thought of me as a girl, some lesser species that happened to be part of the family. Sort of like Dad does. Exactly like Dad does, actually. I’m going to miss him, though. I … I’m going to miss him a lot.”

  Travis nodded slowly. “I know.”

  Allison took a deep breath and turned from the window. “I saw you talking to Christy at the church. How’s she holding up?”

  “She seems okay, considering. By the way, you’re going to be an aunt.”

  “Huh?”

  “It’s not public knowledge yet. Her folks don’t even know, so don’t say anything. They were going to get married. Tommy was going to skip college and go straight to the academy—join the force just like Dad.”

  Allison shook her head. “Just like Dad. Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”

  “It’s going to surprise Dad.”

  “No argument there.”

  “Just keep your mouth shut.”

  “Sure. At least till school starts, anyway. The news will probably be public knowledge by then, along with all the other wonderful events this summer,” Allison said bitterly. “I can see my first English composition: ‘My Summer Vacation’ by Allison Kane. No, I need a title with a little more weight. I know—I’ll throw in some literary references and beef up the title with some—”

  “That sucks, Ali.”

  “I … I’m sorry. I have a bad habit of joking when I don’t know what else to do. I just can’t believe Tommy’s gone. I don’t know how to handle it.”

  “You’re not the only one,” said Travis.

  Later that evening Travis heard the sound of Catheryn’s cello filtering up from below. He descended the stairs, finding his mother alone in the music room. She was sitting in her chair next to the old Baldwin, her instrument case open beside her, her cello between her knees. Not knowing what to say, Travis hesitated in the doorway. As he turned to go, Catheryn glanced up. “Come in, Travis,” she said. “Please.”

  “Sure, Mom.”

  As Travis entered, Catheryn stopped playing and placed her bow in its padded notch in the case. Listlessly, she continued moving her left hand over the neck of the cello without depressing its strings.

  “Where’s Dad?”

  “Your father’s out on the beach somewhere,” Catheryn answered without looking up.

  By force of habit Travis sat at the piano, taking his customary place on the wooden bench. How many hours have we spent like this? he wondered, glancing at his mother and thinking back on the wealth of wordless communication that had passed between them in that room.

  Absently, he placed his hands on the keyboard. The bandages had come off the day before, and although his palms still felt stiff and sore, they were healing far more quickly than he had expected. A moment later, after sounding out a few tentative notes, he removed his fingers from the keys and looked over at Catheryn.

  Other than recounting the bare facts of the climbing accident and the subsequent rescue by the park rangers—details in which Kane had shown little interest—Travis had avoided discussing Tommy’s death with anyone. Despite his mother’s repeated efforts to draw him out, he had refused to open up even to her—irrationally dreading, in his guilt and shame, the thought of suffering her knowing lectures, her probing questions and silken recriminations, her logical dissection of a nightmare he longed to forget. But most of all, he feared a sympathy and understanding he knew he didn’t deserve. Realizing he was wrong but unable to stop himself, he had hidden his feelings, from himself as well as from her, retreating into a shell of denial and silence. Now, no longer able to abide the barrier he’d erected between them, he finally spoke. “Mom?”

  “What is it, Trav?”

  “Do you hate me?”

  Catheryn glanced up in surprise. She studied her son, recognizing the self-accusation in his eyes. With a sigh she leaned her cello against the wall. Then, shaking her head, she reached over and took his face in her hands. “Oh, Travis,” she said gently. “I love you. I’ll always love you. Don’t you know that?”

  Travis swallowed, fighting the stinging flow that threatened to blur his vision. “Mom, I’m so sorry for what happened.”

  “I know.” Catheryn’s hands dropped to her lap. “It was an accident. A terrible accident. It was no one’s fault.”

  Travis looked away.

  “Listen, Trav,” Catheryn continued, her voice filled with compassion. “I talked with one of the rangers at Mineral King. He said he couldn’t believe what you went through to bring Tommy down off the rock. He said what you did was nearly impossible. No one could have done more.”

  “I keep telling myself that,” said Travis. “It’s just …”

  “Don’t do this to yourself, honey. You did everything you could. Let it go.”

  “I want to, Mom. But I can’t.”

  “You must. Tommy’s gone. Now we have to move on.”

  “I know he’s gone,” Travis sighed. “I … I’m just having trouble accepting it.”

  “All of us are,” said Catheryn. She paused, gazing pensively out at the beach. “Especially your father.”

  At the mention of Kane, Travis once more fell silent. Without thinking, he again placed his hands on the piano and struck the opening chords of Chopin’s third étude, the frustratingly elusive work Petrinski had designated as his rite of passage.

  “That’s a beautiful piece,” said Catheryn, watching him carefully. “Truly beautiful.”

  Travis withdrew his hands. “It is,” he said dully, staring down at the keys.

  He could feel his mother’s eyes upon him. With a surge of excoriating guilt, he realized that despite her own sorrow and the staggering depth of her loss, she was still trying to comfort him, still trying to sooth his hurt.
Suddenly, more than anything, he wanted to give her something in return. But what?

  All at once he knew.

  Feeling strangely nervous, he placed his fingers on the keys once more. A slight hesitation. Then, taking a deep breath, he started the étude from the beginning.

  The piece opened with a right-handed statement of a simple, heartbreakingly poignant melody that slowly raised its voice over the chords of the left. Travis played softly, feeling an unaccustomed chill pass through him as the lyric theme unfolded, rising for several bars without embellishment, then falling back. The song progressed and once more the right hand spoke, restating the theme with melting elegance … climbing higher, promising more, them falling back again, trailing off in a curious, stillborn silence leading to the middle section.

  As he steeled himself to embark on the difficulties of the next passage, Travis’s thoughts traveled back, remembering his lost brother and a lifetime of shared experience that had served as a nexus to bind them. He thought back to the night after the fight on the raft, hearing his voice drifting ghostly through the darkness of their room.

  “Tommy?”

  “What, Trav?”

  “Thanks for sticking up for me.”

  “Forget it. It’s no big deal. Let’s get some sleep.”

  “Okay. It is a big deal, though. To me, anyway. When you’re gone, I’m not sure how I’m going to make out around here on my own.”

  With a sensation of effortless power, Travis embarked on the middle passage of Chopin’s moving composition, his fingers finding their way flawlessly through a study of contrasting fourths and sixths, building tension, relaxing, then soaring anew, higher, higher …

  “I screwed up bad, Trav.”

  “You’re gonna be okay.”

  “Tie me off … go down alone.”

  “I’m not leaving you here. I told you I would get you down, and I will. Besides, aren’t you forgetting something?”

  “What?”

  “Kanes stand together, Tom. No matter what.”

  The mounting tension relaxed slightly, then began its relentless ascent with renewed energy, building slowly, pushing toward the summit, ever upward now … upward …

  “Tommy fell, Dad. He fell. I did the best I could, then went for help …”

  “You left him? He was hurt and you left him?

  “Dad, you don’t understand …”

  “I understand just fine. You and your brother lied to me.”

  … upward … and then, in shattering triumph, it pressed at last to a passionate, soul-wrenching climax of astounding strength and power only hinted at by the deceptive foundations laid earlier. Once more in contrasting fourths and sixths, the haunting melody started its inevitable crashing descent, shuddering with chilling precision down, down … falling to its penultimate resting place in preparation for the final recapitulation. Like wind filling calm sails after a storm, the opening melody reappeared, and a quiet restatement of the bittersweet lament was heard for the last time, ending with the serene peace and resolution promised in the opening.

  Travis removed his fingers from the keys. Trembling with emotion, he clasped his hands in his lap to still their shaking. Not trusting himself to speak, he sat quietly as the final chords faded to silence.

  “Thank you, Travis.”

  Travis looked at his mother. He saw tears shimmering in her eyes. To his astonishment, he found his own face was wet, too.

  “Ain’t this sweet. You girls havin’ a private party, or can anybody join in?”

  Travis turned. Kane stood in the doorway, an empty glass in his hand.

  Leaving the door ajar, Kane lurched in. He set his glass beside a half-spent bottle on the bar, then moved to the center of the room, hideously drunk. “You and me got a bone to pick, boy. You think you can defy me in front of people and get away with it?”

  Catheryn hurried to Kane’s side. “Dan, you and Travis can discuss this later. Now isn’t the time.”

  “Now’s the perfect time.” Circling his wife with a thick arm, Kane walked her to the couch. “And for once, you’re gonna stay out of things. This is between me and Travis. Come here, boy.”

  Catheryn attempted to twist free of Kane’s grasp. “Dan, please …”

  Kane forced her to sit. “Stay put, Kate.” Then, turning to Travis, “Get over here, mama’s boy.”

  Travis walked slowly to the center of the room, stopping before his father. Kane glared down at him. With sudden violence his hand shot out and grabbed Travis by his shirt. “How dare you stand up for Arnie today? That lyin’ two-faced bastard’s the reason Tommy’s dead. Why’d you do it?”

  “That’s enough,” said Catheryn, rising from the couch. With surprising speed Kane released Travis and intercepted her before she had gone a step, roughly shoving her back onto the couch. “Butt out, Kate,” he warned, towering over her. “I’m not gonna tell you again.”

  “Dad’s right, Mom,” said Travis. He stood with his arms at his sides. “This is between him and me.”

  Kane turned back to Travis. “For once you ain’t gonna hide behind your mama, eh?” he said, moving closer. “That’s something, anyway. Now, why’d you do it?”

  “Because you were wrong.”

  “That’s not an answer. Why’d you do it?”

  “Tommy’s death wasn’t Arnie’s fault, Dad.”

  “Not good enough.” Kane moved closer still. “Why?”

  “Stop this, Dan,” said Catheryn, on her feet again, her voice as cold as a surgeon’s scalpel.

  “Shut up, Kate. One more word out of you, and Travis here’s gonna think a house landed on him. Why’d you do it, boy?”

  Travis stood motionless in the center of the room, his mouth dry with fear. Behind his father he could see the somber, terrified faces of Allison and Nate watching from the doorway.

  Though unable to control his shaking, Travis resisted the temptation to back away from the mindless demon that had claimed ascendancy in his father’s eyes. “I did it because I wanted to stop you from making a mistake,” he said, trembling with emotion. “I did it because you’ve been so drunk for the past three days, you don’t know what you’re doing. I did it because Arnie’s my friend. You can yell at me all you want, but it won’t change anything. I’d do it again.”

  Kane grabbed Travis’s arms, nearly lifting him from the floor. “You ain’t gonna live to do it again.”

  Travis held his father’s fierce gaze. “This isn’t about Arnie, is it, Dad? Why don’t you just come out and say it? You think I killed Tommy. You think it was my fault.”

  “Wasn’t it?”

  “No. You never even let me tell you what happened. I tried to save him—”

  “The hell you did!” Kane bellowed, shaking Travis with a terrible, unthinking violence born of rage and fury and loss and drink. “There’s more you’re not telling. The only truth to your story so far is the part about leaving Tommy when he was hurt. You ran. You did that just fine. That’s what you’re good at, ain’t it? That, and cryin’.”

  “Dan, don’t do this,” Catheryn begged, pulling at Kane’s arm.

  “You’re not the only one who loved him,” Travis yelled, his eyes burning. “I loved him, too!” Using all his strength, he twisted free of his father’s grasp. But instead of retreating, he stood his ground, watching as the expression on Kane’s face changed from anger to surprise.

  “Well, well.” Kane stepped closer. “You want to take a shot at the ol’ man, don’t you? Come on, boy. Do it.”

  Catheryn stepped between them. “This has gone on long enough. Travis, leave the room.”

  Kane brutally swept her aside. “Come on, crybaby,” he said, giving Travis a push. “Do it.”

  Travis stumbled back. Again he stepped forward. “Gee, I don’t know, Dad. Do I get to clean my blood off your shoes when we’re done?”

  With a roar of drunken fury, Kane reached for Travis. Catheryn caught his arm. “No!” she screamed.

  Kane shook h
er off with a powerful shrug, sending her sprawling. “I warned you, Kate. Butt out.”

  “I won’t.”

  As she rose to her knees, Kane moved toward her. “And I say you will.”

  “Leave her alone!” Travis lowered his head and rushed his father, releasing a torrent of anger and fury and hate and fear that had been building for sixteen long years, his 175 pounds driving in, legs pumping, catching Kane off balance, pushing him back. Kane banged into a lamp, splintering a table as he fought to stay on his feet. The element of surprise quickly gone, he brushed aside Travis’s onslaught. But before he could retaliate, Catheryn once more rushed forward. Kane again brutally shoved her aside, sending her crashing to the floor. Then, giving vent to his rage and despair and ineffable, bottomless loss, he waded into Travis as if he were plowing into a blocking frame, his thick forearms slamming the boy into the wall. Travis staggered, trying to stay upright, his breath knocked from his body. As he struggled against the darkness growing in the corners of his vision, he heard the sound of feet rushing across the floor. Allison.

  “Stop it, Daddy!” she screamed, tearing at her father’s arm. Still dazed from her fall, Catheryn rose and joined her, her arms choking Kane from behind, trying to make him stop. With no more effort than it would take to flick off an insect, Kane sent them skidding across the room. In an instant they were back, struggling to stem the tide of his rage. And Nate was there now too, eyes brimming with frustration at his weakness, his small fists delivering their inconsequential blows to a father he couldn’t hurt, his cries mingling with Allison’s and Catheryn’s, their voices ringing like dissonant chords in a room that had once known only the sound of music. Like a dog shaking himself dry, Kane threw off their feeble assault. Nate’s face caught the corner of the fireplace as he tumbled to a stop. He rose immediately, blood flowing from his chin. Ignoring the screams of his family, Kane hunched his shoulders in fearful purpose. With eyes turned insane by rage and alcohol, he once more moved toward Travis. And again Nate and Allison rushed in, hitting and clawing and tearing at a father who seemed as impervious to them as a raging storm. And once more Catheryn joined them, a log from the fireplace clenched in her hands. With grim resolve she raised the wood over her head and brought it crashing down with all her strength. A dull, hollow thunk sounded as it slammed into Kane’s skull.